


Anywhere is Home with You

by RemyJane



Series: Soulmates [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2014 Winter Olympics, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soulbond Problems, Systemic homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 09:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13544889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemyJane/pseuds/RemyJane
Summary: Nicky was cheerful, a bright energy in Alex’s mind. “We only have to take the numbing agents if we’re playing each other, right? That’s how it was last time.” Alex relaxed into the feeling of Nicky’s certainty, content to let him take the lead.Dr. Symon shook her head. “I’m afraid that’s not the case.” She said. Alex felt the bottom drop out from under Nicky’s feet.———Alex and Nicky are separated for the Olympics.





	Anywhere is Home with You

**Author's Note:**

> “Dialogue” Feel free to assume if two people who share a first language are speaking, they are speaking in their native language. If they don’t, they are probably speaking English. (I.E, Alex and Nicky speak in English to each other, Marcus and Nicky speak Swedish together)
> 
> ‘Telepathy’ or texting, which is marked in the story. There are only so many ways to note communication.

‘Oh my god, please stop.’ Alex grinned as the words reverberated in his head sternly. He could picture Nicky with his arms crossed, eyes flat and unamused. 

Still, Alex continued. ‘56 bottles of beer on the wall, 56 bottles of beer’ he sung in his head, humming under his breath. Marcus looked over his shoulder at them, curious. 

Nicky sent a discrete elbow into his side. ‘I’m going to stop passing to you.’ He promised. Alex wasn’t impressed; Nicky threatened that monthly, but nothing had come of it yet. 

‘Never.’ At the front of the room, game tap rolled on the screen and the coaching staff was still talking. 

Alex could feel Nicky’s mood soften, going a little fond. ‘I’ll have Latts sit by you on the plane.’

‘That’s not-‘

‘He’s ahead of you in Game of Thrones.’ Nicky interrupted. ‘He’ll spoil it for you.’ 

‘He wouldn’t.’

‘Who do you think he’s more scared of?’ Nicky asked mildly. For all that everyone else thought Nicky was a quiet, hardworking Swede, only Alex knew he was actually an evil genius. 

‘You play dirty.’ Alex thought grumpily. ‘Made me lose count.’ 

After the meeting, they had a morning skate. Alex loved the feel of their bond when Nicky was truly focused on hockey. The connection buzzed with energy, a sharp edge that joined them even tighter. Trying to see the game from Nicky’s perspective was too much, too fast to keep up with, but he loved the feeling of it washing over him. 

When Nicky’s passes connected, satisfaction filled the bond like smoke. When he scored, even when he kept a straight face, there was a brighter hint of pride. When Alex scored, everything flashed over with their combined happiness. 

Maybe Alex wouldn’t have such ridiculous cellies if Nicky didn’t have so much joy when he scored.

Alex wanted to score for the team, of course. But, for a small part of him, it was for Nicky. Every goal, every attempt, it was his version of a love letter. He wanted to give Nicky goals, and wins, and rings. A big cup with their names etched in the side for eternity. 

‘Focus, Sasha.’ Nicky chided, catching his wandering thoughts. 

‘55 bottles of beer on the-‘

Nicky checked him abruptly into the boards, derailing the drill they’d been working on with the rookies during free skate. The younger players watched with wide eyes as Alex laughed, caught off guard. Just because they were bonded, that didn’t mean he knew what Nicky was going to do from moment to moment. 

“Stop fucking singing!” Nicky half-yelled, laughter bubbling in his voice as he launched himself at Alex and shoved him down. Alex let himself be pinned to the ice. Nicky was flushed, his helmet knocked eschew with his hair sticking out oddly. He was still smiling though, dimples in his cheeks that Alex wanted to kiss. 

“Scaring the babies.” He said, once Nicky has settled a bit. 

“Good.” He glanced over his shoulder, schooling his expression to a more neutral one. “Fear is good for them.” 

Alex patted his arm. “Let me up.” 

‘What if I don’t want to?’ Nicky’s side of their connection smoldered suddenly, deep red and wanting.

‘Knew you like beer bottle song.’ Alex teased. ‘54-‘

“Acgh!” Nicky pushed him once more, skating away from him. 

Alex got up slowly, watching as Nicky came to a stop in front of Tom and Michael. “Who’s next?” He asked. 

Alex covered his mouth with his glove to hide his smile, watching as the two young players exchanged nervous glances. “I think it’s you, Wilso.” Mike decided pushing him forward. 

Nicky narrowed his eyes. “Latts, let’s go.” He said, skating away without allowing any argument. Alex felt Nicky grinning through the bond. The new guys would learn soon enough that Nicky was not as serious as he let them believe. 

After practice, Coach Oates corralled them all in the locker room. “It’s been an exciting few days, with teams starting to announce Olympic rosters, so I just wanted to be the first to say, congratulations to MoJo and Backy for being selected to Team Sweden!” 

Alex grinned at Nicky, watching him nod his head and try to escape scrutiny as quickly as possible. He politely thanked anyone who congratulated him before hurrying to the showers. 

“Shocking, he didn’t like being the center of attention.” Mike laughed, elbowing Alex. “You guys might get to play each other.” His tone was lighthearted, but his eyes were serious. 

“Didn’t last time.” Alex said quickly. He’d had no doubts Nicky would be selected, though Nicky had protested modestly. He was suddenly thankful for Russia’s poor performance in 2010- he couldn’t imagine Nicky going through the bond numbing by himself. 

“Is everything gonna be ok?” 

Alex shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Russia win gold. Nicky can have silver.” 

“Just Nicky?” Mike asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Good point. MoJo too.” 

Dr. Symon pulled them into her office before they could leave. Nicky’s hair was still dripping onto his shoulders and Alex was missing his shoes. “Dr. Epema and I have talked about the Olympics, just in preparation. Now that it’s official you are both going, we need to have a plan in place.”

Nicky was cheerful, a bright energy in Alex’s mind. “We only have to take the numbing agents if we’re playing each other, right? That’s how it was last time.” Alex relaxed into the feeling of Nicky’s certainty, content to let him take the lead. 

Dr. Symon shook her head. “I’m afraid that’s not the case.” She said. 

Alex felt the bottom drop out from under Nicky’s feet. “What do you mean?” He asked. 

“While the IOC only requires the numbing agents during games where you are playing each other, Russia has changed their rules- if you are bonded with another player in the same sport, you have to take numbing agent the entire time.” 

Alex felt sick. He could feel Nicky tense and their confusion mingled together. “Why?” Nicky asked. Glancing to the side, Alex could see that he was pale. 

Dr. Symon shrugged her shoulders. “Honestly, from what I’ve read...it comes down to politics.” She looked reluctant. 

It clicked. “Because we’re gay.” Alex said quietly, his heart heavy in his chest. 

Dr. Symon tipped her head in agreement. “That’s what many people are saying. Some athletes have argued and they were uninvited.” 

“The tournament is almost two weeks.” Nicky said. “The bond has to numb the whole time?” 

“Yes.” She pulled a folder from her desk, flipping it open. 

‘Great, more good news.’ Nicky thought darkly. Despite everything, Alex smiled at that. He squeezed Nicky’s hand. 

“Nicklas, based on your most recent blood work, you’ll need to stop taking your CBD pills today in order for your levels to be low enough to compete.” She looked over the rim of her red glasses. “I’m sorry. Dr. Epema talked to several people in the IOC already. They’re not budging.” 

Alex could feel barely restrained nerves coiling like a snake in the bond, cool and clammy on the back of his neck. “Pills make him tired.” He argued. “They think that helps him play?”

“I don’t think they’re thinking at all.” She admitted candidly. “But they didn’t ask for my opinion.” She closed her folder and settled her hands on the desk. “Dr. Epema will be calling you later to set up an appointment. We think it would be best to do a trial run with a numbing agent. It’s been a few years, hopefully the CBD has been doing its job.” She said, offering a hopeful smile. 

They didn’t talk about it on the way home. They didn’t talk at all. Nicky turned the radio up and stared out the window, letting the music wash over him. He was bordering on anxious, tapping his foot out of sync with the beat on the floorboards. 

Nicky fielded the call from Dr. Epema. ‘Tomorrow at 12:30’, he thought to Alex as he jotted it down. They ate leftovers straight from the fridge and then Nicky decided it was time for their pre-game nap. 

But neither of them could sleep. 

“It won’t be as bad.” Nicky said, uncertainty dripping from his words. “Last time, I had a concussion.”

Alex rolled onto his side, looking at Nicky. “Good point. And, take pills for years now.” 

“Yeah.” Nicky said. His mind swirled with doubt. “It’ll be ok.” He said, trying to force himself to believe it. 

The next day, their nerves ratcheted up as Dr. Epema readied a syringe. “Alex, we’ll be injecting you to simulate the Olympics as best we can.” She explained. 

“Ok.” Alex held out his arm obediently, wincing internally as the needle pierced his skin, but keeping his eyes fixed on Nicky. 

Nicky looked as pale as the white sheet beneath him, his eyes wide. Alex tried to soak up the last moments of the bond, pushing a surge of affection to Nicky, who gratefully echoed it. And then, everything was gone. 

Alex did not like the feel of his mind suddenly being empty. Everything felt too small, cramped, and lonely. Nicky closed his eyes, fingers gripping the edge of the exam table. His feet ceased to kick back and forth. “Nicky?” Alex asked. 

“I’m ok.” He said, a little faint, a little hesitant. “I’m ok.”

“Are you in any pain?” Dr. Epema asked. The nurse took his blood pressure. 

“No, not really.”

“Which one? ‘No’ or ‘not really’? Those aren’t the same.” Dr. Epema asked, a hint of a smile on her lips. 

“Not really.” Nicky admitted softly. His cheeks pinked and he looked down at his feet. 

“148 over 72.” The nurse said, removing the blood pressure cuff from his arm. “Heart rate is up to 104.” 

“Your blood pressure is quite a bit higher than before.” Dr. Epema said. “Lay down and take nice, slow breaths, alright? You’re doing very well.”

Alex stood, feeling nothing more than a bit of a headache. He took Nicky’s hand in his and leaned closer. “Better than last time, yes?”

Nicky chuckled, turning his head towards Alex. “Yeah. Better.” He closed his eyes. 

“We’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you. If you need anything, the call light is right here.” Dr. Epema said. 

“Really ok?” Alex asked as the door closed. 

“I can play.” Nicky answered quickly. 

Alex’s expression soured. “Not what I asked.” He said. 

“It’s not great but...it’s really not that bad.” Nicky assured him. Alex knew what Nicky’s pain tolerance was like, and that didn’t reassure him. 

“She said it gets worse, remember? 2 weeks is a long time.” Alex said, rubbing Nicky’s hand. 

“I’ll be ok.” He said with more confidence. Alex wondered if he was being lied to. 

A month later, they were in Sochi. Alex let himself be swept up in the festivities, the wonder and grandeur of it all. So much so that he almost forgot about the numbing agent. Almost. 

The night before, he met Nicky behind his building. He hugged him tight. “11 days.” He said, kissing him. “We can do it.” Never mind that it was only 4 days last time and Nicky had been out of his mind with pain; nevermind that they would be separated for one of the most important events of their lives. 

“We’ll be ok.” Nicky agreed. 

Alex kissed him again. “I’ll text lots.” He promised. 

“You always do that.” Nicky said, smiling despite his nerves. Alex liked that he was trying so hard to maintain normality. Nicky suppressing his nerves was one of the more normal things about the day. 

“I’ll use more kissy emojis.” He said, kissing his cheeks and making loud smacking sounds. 

“I look forward to it.” Nicky said, mouth twisting in a dry grin. 

———

Alex had warned Nicky when the injection would be, but it didn’t help much; he was on the ice for practice when the bond went suddenly blank. He fumbled the puck, his vision swimming for a brief moment. He completed the exercise and skated to the bench for water. 

It wasn’t as bad as the first time, he reminded himself. He had the sensation that he’d come untethered and was floating aimlessly, and his head hurt, but it wasn’t that bad. 

“You ok?” Marcus asked, bumping their shoulders together. 

“Russian players have to have their bonds silenced.” Nicky explained. “It was just strange.” Everyone found the bond numbing unsettling, but no one talked about malformed bonds. Nicky hadn’t told anyone he hadn’t had to. Only the medical staff, Alex, and Mike knew. He thought about telling Marcus, but he didn’t; he’d be ok. 

Marcus nodded sympathetically. “That sucks.” He said, clapping a hand on his shoulder once. 

Nicky survived the first day. 

Day two, he woke with a worse headache. He took Tylenol and tried to force down breakfast. Alex said he’d text, but he was especially busy with the games being in Russia. The athletes were expected to participate in many extracurricular events, meeting important businessmen and politicians. 

Nicky was ok. His head hurt a bit, but that could’ve been from jet lag. It was probably from jet lag, he reasoned with himself. His thoughts felt lonely without Alex’s voice responding. Alex was high energy and he hid nothing from their bond. Nicky felt every high, from game winning goals to getting the last blueberry bagel, and every low (deaths, losses, no blueberry bagels). Of course it would take some time to get use to the absence of that. 

He couldn’t remember a time before Alex. He hadn’t known how much he depended on it until it had been stripped away; he cringed to think of those four dark days. 

“Morning.” Marcus said, sitting beside him. They were roommates, but Nicky’s teammates all seemed to eventually learn not to try to talk to him until he had tea in hand. 

“Morning.” He replied. 

“Sleep well?” Marcus asked. 

“Not really.” Nicky admitted. He smiled. “I think the jet lag is worse than when I was younger.” 

Marcus laughed, and the conversation shifted easily. 

Nicky was ok; he could handle this. 

They played a game that afternoon, winning easily enough to boost spirits. Alex met him in the hallway after, wearing his team warm-ups. “Pretty goal, Nicky.” He said, kissing him. Nicky melted into the kiss, the way Alex’s broad hands felt across his back. 

“It was alright.” He said, shrugging. 

Alex snorted. “You make the best goals.” Then, dropping his voice. “You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Nicky said easily; it was mostly true. His headache was almost gone and the sandy edge of anxiety in his chest was barely noticeable. 

Alex looked skeptical. “You tell me if you aren’t, yes?”

“Of course.” 

“You tell MoJo? He’s a good guy.” Alex suggested. 

“If I need to, I’ll tell him.” Nicky wasn’t telling anyone if he could avoid it. Nicky was resilient, or that’s what he wanted people to think. He felt embarrassed even thinking about explaining the bond dependency. 

“Ok.” Alex said. Nicky suspected Alex already knew he wouldn’t tell him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Nicky hugged him, resting his head on Alex’s shoulder and letting his warmth sink into him. It lessened the tightness in his ribs and he relaxed slightly. “Can I have your scarf?” He asked quietly, impulsively. 

Alex smiled, looping it around Nicky’s neck happily. “Looks good on you.” Then, because Nicky was bonded to the most immature person he knew, “You want me to take off any more clothes?” Alex teased. 

Nicky pushed him gently. “Ugh. Go away.” He said, laughing. 

Alex kissed him once more before they parted ways. 

Day three was much the same. They skated in the morning and Nicky and Marcus joined some of their teammates watching other events. Nicky slipped away to watch Russia’s game, Alex’s scarf tucked into the front of his jacket, mostly hidden from sight. 

Unless you were up close. “That doesn’t look like a Team Sweden scarf.” Nicky looked up and was surprised to see Sidney Crosby. 

“I guess not.” He said slowly. 

“Do you mind if I sit here?” 

“Go ahead.” They were in a relatively empty part of the stadium, high enough up that no one was flocking to sit there. There were boxes dedicated to athletes, but Nicky didn’t feel like socializing. 

Crosby watched the game in silence, for the most part. Nicky stayed focused on Alex, smiling when he scored. 

Only when Malkin scored and Sidney bounced in his seat did he make the connection. “Are you…?” He trailed off. 

“Yeah.” Crosby nodded. “I hate that they changed their bond policies this year.”

“It’s all political.” Nicky said quietly, like he knew things and wasn't just repeating what he was told. 

“Of course.” Sidney shared a small grin with him, his eyes twinkling. “But I still hate it.” Nicky laughed. 

Later, that was the picture Alex sent him. A photographer had managed to get a shot of Crosby and him laughing together in the stands, the distinctive look of Alex’s team Russia scarf peeking out from the top of Nicky’s jacket. ‘

He’s the enemy!!!!!!!!!!!!!’ Alex texted. 

‘Olympics is about bringing people together.’ Nicky typed back, imagining the exaggerated outrage on Alex’s face and smiling to himself. 

“You want to go to dinner?” Marcus asked. Nicky looked up. He felt exhausted, his limbs heavy, and his head was starting to ache. Marcus picked up on his hesitancy. “I’ll bring you back something.” He decided. 

“Thank you.” Nicky said, stretching out on his bed. He missed his and Alex’s king-sized mattress, though most of the space was wasted, because Alex used Nicky like a teddy bear most nights. He wondered how Alex was sleeping without him. 

‘Can you call?’ Nicky texted. 

‘((((((((((( at dinner. Sry. L8r?’ Nicky frowned, wondering how he could’ve formed a soul-bond with someone who texted like that. 

He drifted off to sleep, waking when Marcus returned with a plate of pasta and a breadstick. 

“Are you feeling ok?” Marcus asked. “You look pale.”

“I’m ok.” Nicky said, ignoring the way his head throbbed and the cramping, sick feeling in his stomach. He thought about telling him about the problem with his bond, but he couldn’t. Marcus probably wouldn’t think less of him, but maybe he would. It wasn’t something you talked about, it was something to be skirted around in polite conversation, like religion or politics. 

“Alright.” Marcus said, accepting his answer at face value. 

If Nicky fell asleep with Alex’s scarf balled up in his hands, well, Marcus wasn’t the kind of person who would tell. 

Day four, they played another game. Nicky’s headache persisted, unbroken by Advil or Tylenol. It hurt like sharp pieces of something that didn’t quite fit together right, pinching and stabbing his brain. He felt unduly anxious, nervously fidgeting with his hands. 

Alex was too busy to visit, too busy to call. If Nicky thought too hard about it, his lungs seemed to shrink. He caught himself giving away to the dread, panicking that something happened to Alex. He buried his nose in the scarf and tried to breathe normally. 

By day five, he was thinking about the small bottle of pills Dr. Epema had sent with him, ones that were tucked in under the lining of his suitcase. They weren’t the same pills he’s taken years back, but they would calm him down without getting him kicked out of the tournament. 

He found Alex after his game, letting the taller man engulf him in a hug. “You ok?” Alex asked. “Don’t look so good.” 

Nicky thought about telling him, but Alex had just won. He’d played beautiful hockey in his home country and Nicky couldn’t find it in himself to deflate his good mood. “Jet lag.” He lied, forcing a smile. 

Lying to Alex made his stomach twist in knots, but the alternative was worrying Alex about something neither of them could control. “Poor Nicky.” Alex teased. “Maybe you just miss sleeping with me.” 

It was close enough to the truth that Nicky felt it like a long needle under his ribs. “Marcus doesn’t snore.” He teased. “So-“

Alex playfully punched his arm, throwing back his head and laughing. One of the Russian players said something to him and he nodded. “I have to go. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Nicky said, watching until Alex disappeared around the corner. 

Nicky let himself be drug to a bar, hoping beer would mellow the harsh edges of nervous energy in his chest. One beer didn’t, but three started to. No one played the next day, they had a day off before the playoff round. 

Nicky went back for something stronger. His head still pounded, but the tight feeling in his chest was gone. 

He was pretty damn drunk when Alex’s familiar form split through the sea of people around him. Nicky took a deep breath, like he’d just remembered how. 

“Hey!” He greeted, smiling. 

Alex chuckled, looping an arm around him. “Missed you.” He kissed Nicky. “Taste like cheap liquor.” He teased, kissing him again anyway. 

“I think they only have cheap liquor.” Nicky giggled, pressing his aching head into Alex’s shoulder. 

“You ok?” Alex asked, his voice almost lost in the raucous noise surrounding them. 

“I’m great.” Nicky said, smiling at him. Drunk, he could lie more easily, or at least without guilt. 

“You’re drunk.” Alex declared, laughing. “More drinks.”

Nicky let Alex steer him around the bar, introducing him to some of his teammates. Eventually, they managed to snag a booth. Nicky relaxed against Alex’s side, not caring who sat across from him. 

“Hey Nick.” Nicky blinked, looking up at a smiling Sidney Crosby, who joined Evgeni Malkin as he slide in across from them. 

“Hey.” 

Evgeni frowned. “One game, now friends?” He asked Sidney. 

“You’re friends with Ovechkin, which is arguably worse.” Sidney countered. 

Evgeni shrugged. “Ok, true. But we have to be friends, for Russia.” 

“For Russia!” Alex agreed with zeal, raising his glass. They all followed suit; Nicky would drink to anything, because alcohol seemed to be numbing the pain. Except for his head- it was only getting worse. 

He fell quiet after a while. It was easier to settle in alongside Alex, with his arm heavy across Nicky’s shoulders, than to try to think. It was easier to let everything roll over him like a tide coming in than to fight it. 

He lost track of how much he’d had to drink, how much time had passed, even who he’d seen. 

Eventually, Marcus was in front of him. “Here, have some water.” He said, Swedish easy and gentle on his aching brain. 

He blinked, trying to pull the bar into focus. Alex was still beside him, but he looked worried. Nicky’s stomach dropped; he was trying to keep from worrying Alex, that was the whole point-

“I’m ok. Thank you. But I’m ok.” Nicky said, even as he took the water. The plastic cup was cool in his hands, condensation making them wet. “Thanks.”

Alex smiled. “Nicklas Backstrom: most polite drunk.” He declared. Nicky relaxed, happy to see him smiling. 

“Yeah, but you won’t have to deal with him being hungover.” Marcus laughed. “Drink the water, Backy.” 

Nicky took a sip, and then another. His head was throbbing, nothing like a migraine but nearly as all-encompassing. 

Day six, Nicky woke with a miserable hangover, like Marcus had predicted. He pulled his pillow over his face, blocking out the morning light. He fell back asleep fitfully. 

Asleep, he dreamed horrible, dark things with inky shadows and misery twisting through him like an icy corkscrew. He woke suddenly, a scream dying in his throat.

He took a cool shower, hoping it would help, but he just felt cold. He missed Alex fiercely, anxious tension crawling across his skin like ants. He scrubbed his skin until it was red, but it didn’t help.

Looking in the mirror, he didn’t like what he saw. He was pale, his hair tangled, with deep bags under his eyes. He brushed his teeth and dressed, entering the room to find Marcus sitting tiredly on the edge of his bed. “How are you up?” Marcus asked. “I’m dying. Let’s go eat.” 

Nicky picked at his breakfast until Marcus decided they needed to go nap before they went to see any events. Nicky followed him back to the room, waiting until he was asleep before burying his nose in Alex’s scarf and falling asleep. He didn’t remember his dreams, but he woke with tears in his eyes, trembling. 

He lay in bed trying to catch his breath. His chest hurt, like a vice was clamped around it. Everything felt like broken glass. He took a few deep, slow breaths. They were over halfway done. He could do this. 

He watched figure skating with Marcus, Patrik Berglund, and a few other teammates after practice. He wore Alex’s scarf, but the comforting scent had almost worn off. He felt weak, ashamed, but Alex’s smell helped. Being close to Alex helped more, but the scarf was an acceptable substitute. 

His heart ached and he wanted, desperately, to be at home. Alex permeated everything in their house and imbued it with his warm comfort. He imagined pressing his face into Alex’s pillow and inhaling his scent until he could breathe deeply again. 

‘Busy?’ He texted Alex. 

Alex didn’t respond for almost an hour, when they were leaving for dinner. ‘Free now. Meet?’ And then, before Nicky could send a follow-up, Alex sent a picture of him and Evgeni. Judging by the background, they were at the dining hall. 

Nicky thought about that many people being that close. He thought about being that close to Alex but not being able to wrap his arms around him. He thought of people seeing him like this, when he felt like he was going to fly apart into a billion splinters. 

He hadn’t realized he was nearly hyperventilating until Marcus grabbed him by the arms, steadying him. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m ok.” Nicky said reflexively. 

“No, you’re not.” Marcus frowned. “You want to go lay down?” 

“Yeah.” Nicky nodded. Marcus dropped the strong grip around his arm when they passed a crowd of people, but Nicky could feel the imprint of his hand long after. 

Nicky sat on the edge of his bed, dropping his head into his hands. “What do you need?” Marcus asked. 

“Nothing. I’m ok.”

“You look sick.”

“Hangover.” Nicky lied. It wasn’t much of an effort. 

Marcus shook his head. “I’ve seen you hungover before. You get cranky, not...whatever this is.”

Nicky straightened, trying to ignore the way his breath caught in his throat. “I haven’t been sleeping well. I’ll be fine. I’m a little hungry.” 

Marcus looked skeptical. “I was going to go get some food. What do you want?”

“Whatever you’re having is fine.” Nicky said, relieved. As soon as Marcus left, he collapsed back onto his bed, tears leaking down from the corners of his eyes. 

He called Alex, fingers shaking. 

“Nicky!” Alex greeted him. “My best center! Sorry, Zhenya.” 

“Can you…” Nicky swallowed hard, trying to clear his throat. “Can you…” he couldn’t bring himself to ask for him. He hated the idea of upsetting Alex, but god, did he need help. 

“You ok?”

“Almost.” Nicky breathed. Sasha was ok, he could hear his voice, but every time he reached for their bond, he was awash in pale, cool dread. 

“Be right there.” 

Nicky nodded gratefully, hanging up. He closed his eyes tight. He could breathe, he reminded himself, no matter how much it felt like he couldn’t. He wasn’t broken, no matter how much he felt like he was. 

Alex wasn’t alone; Marcus was with him and Nicky wanted to shout, to scream, to throw a fit, but he couldn’t. Marcus had two to-go boxes of food and a deeply worried furrow to his brow. 

“You tell him?” Alex asked. 

Nicky shook his head. “N-no.” 

“Tell me what? Are you hurt? Are you sick?” Marcus guessed. 

“No. I’m fine.” Nicky said, before Alex wrapped him in a hug. He didn’t realize how badly he’d been shaking until Alex held him. 

“MoJo, give us a minute.” Alex decided. 

“Wh-“

“Go.” He repeated sternly. 

Nicky made it until the door closed before a sob escaped. He pressed his face into Alex’s chest, inhaling the scent of home. 

“Oh, Nicky…” Alex murmured. “Always so stubborn.” He stroked his back. Nicky unwound slowly, until he could breathe a little deeper and his head cleared enough to think. 

“The scarf helped.” He said, trying to steady his voice. “It smelled like you.” 

Alex kissed him, stroking his fingers down Nicky’s cheek. He drank in the easy affection, relishing the feeling of being loved. “I’m sorry.” He murmured, between kisses. 

“Me too.” 

“Feel bad. I miss you, you know. Team keeping us busy.” Alex apologized by way of explanation. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you up here.” Calmer, he felt silly for needing Alex so much. He felt like a burden. 

“No, no. Good to see you. Love to see you.” Alex ran a hand through his hair. “Next time, even easier. In four years.” He teased. 

“Right. Next time.” Nicky said, dreading it already. 

Alex traced circles on his back a few minutes more. “Feel better?”

“Yeah.” Nicky said, feeling his ears burn hot. 

“Good. Tell MoJo. Think you worried him.” Alex suggested. 

Nicky shook his head. “I don’t want to.” He said, his voice sounding whiny even to his own ears. “God, I hate this.” 

“Doing a lot better than last time.” Alex said. “I’m proud of you.”

“My bond is b-“

“Not broken.” Alex interrupted quickly. “Never broken. Don’t say that.” 

Nicky let the gentle chastisement roll over him. “Ok.” He exhaled. “Not broken.” 

“Good. Now, you eat and we tell MoJo.” Alex decided, pulling out his phone and texting him before Nicky could protest. 

Marcus hadn’t gone very far, as he arrived back at the room only a few minutes later. Nicky had managed to eat a few bites of his dinner, but everything tasted like sawdust. 

“Hi.” Marcus said, closing the door carefully behind him. 

Nicky looked up. Alex was still within arm’s reach, and he placed his hand in the middle of Nicky’s back. “I’m sorry. I haven’t...I haven’t really been telling the truth.” 

“What’s going on?” Marcus asked, sitting on the edge of his own bed. In the small room, they weren’t very far apart. 

“I told you our bond was numbed.” Nicky began. Marcus nodded intently, dark eyes fixed on Nicky’s face. “It’s…when I was young, something happened, and it messed with my bond. I have a dependent bond.” It occurred to him that he’d never said those words out loud to anyone, not even himself. 

“Oh.” Marcus stared at him. Nicky wanted to disappear but Alex’s hand pressed firmer against his back. “What does that mean?” 

Alex cleared his throat. “Means it’s harder for him to have bond separated. Makes him sick.” 

Understanding dawned across Marcus’s face. “I’m sorry. That’s terrible. Do you need anything?” He asked. He looked earnest, as far as Nicky could tell. Nicky could hardly meet his eye. 

“No, but thank you.” He said. 

Later, when Marcus left to go shower, Alex quickly stripped off his shirt. “What are you doing?” Nicky asked, opening his eyes. 

Alex smirked, throwing his undershirt at him before re-dressing. “Scarf helped. So, shirt help more.” He reasoned. Nicky’s cheeks turned pink and he looked away. Alex laid down beside him. “So cute when you blush.” He teased, which only really made it worse.

“I can’t believe you.” Nicky said, even as he clutched the shirt in his hands. 

“I know, I’m best. How you get so lucky?” Alex kissed him. “Don’t forget, you have pills.” 

“I know. They make me so out of it, though.” 

Alex nodded in agreement. “I know. But, better than hurting, right?” 

“Right.” 

Day seven, the one week mark, meant Nicky had to figure out how to play as everything tried to shake apart. He could feel Marcus watching him and he wished he could disappear. 

“How’re you doing?” Marcus asked, skating up behind him during practice. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Is that a ‘fine’ fine, or ‘I’m going to say fine no matter what’ fine?” He asked, dropping his voice. 

Nicky grimaced. “The second one.” 

Marcus smiled at him warmly. “Got it.” He tapped him with his stick. 

Afterwards, Nicky ate a perfunctory lunch and got back to his room as quickly as possible. He hurt in a way he couldn’t describe. Almost like he was caught in an icy sandstorm, with bits of grit tearing at the ragged edges of his soul. He curled up in the bed, burying his face in Alex’s shirt, trying to breathe. 

“Nicky?” Marcus asked quietly, his voice laced with concern. “What do you need?”

He needed Alex back. He needed his bond to sort out; he needed to be taking the pills that would do that. “It’s just from the bond. It’s fine.” He said through clenched teeth. His arms shook.

“Doesn’t look fine.” Nicky felt the mattress shift as Marcus awkwardly sat beside him, his hand tentatively patting his back. “What’s it feel like?” 

“Hurts.” He said. “Can’t breathe.” 

Marcus’s eyes widened. “Do you need me to call someone?”

“No. It’s...I can handle it.”

“Do you have any medicine or anything?” Marcus asked. His hand still rested across the middle of Nicky’s back, with a little more confidence than before. 

“It makes me really tired.” Nicky said. “I’ll be ok.”

“Ok.” Marcus said slowly. “If you need anything, let me know, ok?”

“Got it.”

Slowly, Nicky forced himself to calm down, breathing in deliberate lung-fulls of Alex’s smell. The fog cleared a bit, and eventually he fell asleep. 

After the game, he threw up in the bathroom until a grim-faced Marcus came to retrieve him. “I said you had a migraine.” He said, sotto voce, helping Nicky pull off his gear. “And I’m gonna get you back to our room.”

He was deeply, pathetically grateful, even as his guts twisted and turned themselves inside out. His cheeks were wet with tears and felt crushingly sure he was going to die. Panic echoed in his chest, a cacophony of pain and fear tearing through him, and he could hardly move. 

Sasha was gone. Why was he gone? Nicky strained to remember, his mind muddled and unwieldy. He knew, he thought. Some part of him knew, some version of him that wasn’t hurting so much. 

“Shit, Nick, breathe, ok?” Marcus said, suddenly holding him up against the wall. “Do you want me to call Alex?”

As much as Nicky did, he knew his voice wouldn’t be enough. “No.” He panted. “I’m fine.”

Marcus laughed, not cruelly. “No, you’re not.” 

Nicky didn’t even shower. Marcus guided him back to the dorms, shuffling him into an empty staircase away from throngs of people using the elevators. “Do you need a minute?”

“No.” He said, clutching the handrail. “Yes. I can’t...I can’t breathe.” 

“I’m calling Alex.” 

“No! He has...he has a game later.” Nicky said. Sasha was away. He knew that. He took another breath, trying to push through. 

“Ok.” 

Once in their room, Nicky dug the medicine from his bag and swallowed the pill with a gulp of whatever bottle Marcus put into his hand. It was Gatorade, he decided after a minute. 

He curled up in bed, muscles slowly unclenching until he fell into a drug-induced sleep. 

When he awoke the next day (day eight, Nicky thought, but he was losing track), Alex was pressed close to his back, an arm around his waist. It was a twin sized bed, not nearly big enough for the two of them. 

“Morning.” Alex said, kissing the nape of his neck. “Sleep ok?”

“How long have you been here?” Nicky asked, yawning. His mouth tasted like something had died in it and his muscles ached with dehydration. His head pounded like a bass drum. 

“Came over after game. MoJo texted, said you didn’t feel too good.” Alex said nonchalantly. 

“Oh.” He lifted his head. Marcus’s bed was empty. 

“He’s getting breakfast.” Alex answered his silent question. “You hungry?”

Nicky hummed, shrugging his shoulder. “I need to shower.” 

“I noticed.” Alex teased. “It’s ok, love you even if you stink.” He paused. “How do you feel?” 

“Tired.” Nicky said honestly. “But, I’ll be ok.” 

“I know.” Alex said, tightening his arms around him. 

“Did you win your game?” Nicky asked, letting his eyes slide closed again. 

“Yeah. Shut out.” 

“Good.” 

Alex chuckled, the noise rumbling in his chest. “Get up, go shower.” 

Nicky groaned, but he knew Alex was right. Nicky felt a little more human after he’d washed and cleaned up. Alex presented him with a pill he’d broken in half. “Try. Maybe won’t be so much a zombie.” 

Nicky spent the day groggily watching events with Alex, trying to keep his eyes opened. The medicine made his mouth dry and made him woozy. They had lunch together, feet tangled under the table. Nicky picked at his food, appetite lacking. 

“Half pill too much.” Alex decided, when he nearly dozed off sitting upright. “Maybe quarter.” He thought aloud. 

“I can’t play like this.” 

“Pill wear off before tomorrow.” Alex said. “You’ll be ok.” 

Being drugged didn’t mean anything when there was no chance of the bond coming back yet. Alex had pills to take with his meals, and a bruise on his elbow where they’d drawn blood to check his hormone levels. 

Nicky hated it. 

Waiting for the bond to return had been tedious, but he still had days to go before Alex could even stop taking the numbing agent. And they didn’t know how long the effect would be. Even with the sedative, his head hurt. The anxiety was still there; it couldn’t reach him as easily, but the pit of his stomach was filled with it. 

Alex had obligations that evening, so Nicky sat alone as the effect of the sedative slowly faded, letting everything come back up like a water stain leaching through fresh paint. He wiped away tears when Marcus opened their door. “Hey.” 

“Hi.” Nicky said, rubbing at his eyes. 

“You want to watch TV? Apparently there’s a channel that’s just Russian game shows. Do you know any Russian?” Marcus asked. 

“A little. Usually I just ask.” Usually, there was a Russian pocket dictionary in his brain. Still, Nicky was grateful for the distraction as he and Marcus tried to figure out the rules. 

They’d been quiet for a while when Marcus spoke again. “I’m glad you told me what’s going on. I know that wasn’t easy.” He shifted, turning on his side to look at Nicky. 

“Thanks.” Nicky said, cheeks warming. “I really appreciate your help.”

“You’d do the same for me.” Marcus shrugged. 

Long after Marcus had fallen asleep, Nicky lay in bed trying to stop himself from reaching for Alex right before he drifted off. His head ached intensely and if he let himself, he could feel the broken edges of his bond, tearing him apart. 

Nicky awoke the next day in tears, a forgotten nightmare hovering over him like a ghost. He pressed Alex’s t-shirt to his face, shaking. 

He had to play. Had to play. Play the game, get Sasha back. Play the game, go back home. Play the game. 

He wanted to fight about how unfair it was that their bond was numb because Russia didn’t like same-sex bonds. He wanted to scream because all the most effective treatments for dependent bonds (and other malformed bonds) were outlawed by the IOC. Even the NHL let Nicky take the CBD pills. 

He wanted to do all that, but even more, he wanted to never tell anyone how badly he was hurting. He wanted to bury his pain here and never bring it home. He knew he shouldn’t be embarrassed about his bond, knew it wasn’t his fault, but he was. He’d been mortified to even tell Marcus, who he’d known for years. 

He knew he had a reputation as patient, calm, and good under pressure. But he didn’t feel any of those things. He was churning with anxious, biting energy. He couldn’t quite think straight, like someone had slipped him something. 

It wasn’t as bad as last time, he reminded himself. Was he supposed to be grateful for that? Was he…? Why couldn’t he feel Sasha? Don’t get distracted. One foot in front of the other. 

Inhale, exhale. Go to morning skate. Try to push down the panic. Try to breathe. Sasha isn’t dead. Sasha texted 12 kissy emojis not 10 minutes before practice. Sasha was ok. 

Sasha was ok. That became his mantra: Sasha is ok; play the game, go home with Sasha. Sasha is ok. 

Every action was laborious. His ears felt clogged, like he couldn’t hear. His head throbbed with every heartbeat and his eyes burned from holding back tears. He could breathe, but it didn’t feel like it. 

After practice, Marcus directed him straight back to their room. Nicky couldn’t-he couldn’t breathe, not really. Every breath hurt, like his lungs were sliding over gnarled claws of terror and panic. 

As the door closed behind him, Marcus pulled Nicky into a hug. He hadn’t- he didn’t expect that. Marcus was solid and warm, but he wasn’t Sasha. Where was S-

“Look at me. Are you ok? Are you alright?” Marcus was saying.

“It hurts.” Nicky whispered. “Fuck, it hurts. Is Sasha- is he ok?” His voice sounded too loud in his own ears. 

“He’s ok. I promise, he’s ok.” Marcus said. 

“Where is he?” Nicky tried to remember. He knew this. He knew where he was, knew why he wasn’t there, but...his brain hurt too much to find the information. 

“He’s playing a game. Then we’re playing tonight.” Marcus said slowly. Distantly, Nicky noticed that Marcus looked scared, his eyes wide and mouth pressed into a thin slash. He was scared of Nicky, he thought, stomach dropping. 

“Right.” Nicky nodded. 

Nicky didn’t quite fall asleep, but he let the agony wash over him until he couldn’t do anything else except feel it. Everything hurt and yet, he couldn’t feel. Everything burned, but he was still so cold. 

He barely remembered going back to the rink. His hands knew how to lace his skates, they knew how to pass the puck. Everything had the feeling that it was happening to someone else. He watched the game, numb on the outside and screaming on the inside. Sasha was gone. Sasha could be dead. Sasha-

“He’s ok.” Marcus whispered to him, bumping their elbows together. “You’re ok. Almost done.” 

Nicky didn’t know if they won or lost the game. He made it halfway down the tunnel before the thin scaffolding holding up his facade cracked. Someone pulled him into a side room and he was grateful he could slump against the wall and slide to the floor as he split in two. 

He couldn’t feel anything except the pain. Breathing, blinking, everything hurt. Every contraction of his heart hurt, his chest tight and his head throbbing. He welcomed the numbness as it spread inward and he gladly succumbed to it. 

He came back to awareness slowly after an eternity. First, he could feel a hand holding his and then one in his hair. It felt nice, it felt familiar. 

“Nicky, Nicky, it’s ok. It’s over. Nicky, it’s over.” A voice said in his ear. He blinked slowly, his eyelashes gummy and partially stuck together. His chest hurt. Everything still hurt. 

He blinked again. “Nicky, squeeze my hand.” He squeezed. “Ok, good.” “Thank god.” Someone else said simultaneously. 

“Nicky?” He knew that voice; he needed that voice. 

“Sasha?” His throat hurt. He closed his eyes. 

“Yeah. Need you to take medicine, ok?” Nicky complied, swallowing the pill with a mouthful of cold water. “Good. You did so good tonight, Nicky. So good.” 

Nicky turned his head, Alex’s scruff catching strands of his blond hair. “Did you win?”

Alex made a choked noise. “No, we didn’t.”

“Oh.” Nicky paused. “I’m sorry.” 

Nicky heard a burst of hysterical laughter and Alex joined in, smoothing a hand over his hair. “Oh, Nicky. Love you so much.” Alex said, kissing him. “Promise me you never, ever change.” His voice was thick with emotion, throaty like he’d been crying. 

“I love you too.” 

“Russia lost. Not taking numbing pills anymore.” Alex explained. “We did it. It’s over. You did it.”

Nicky opened his eyes again, the world swimming into focus around him. “What?”

“Pills should wear off fast. Bond will come back.” Alex explained. 

“Oh.” He looked up to where Marcus was, kneeling in front of them. “Did we win?” 

Marcus nodded. “We won.” 

“Oh.” 

“We don’t play until the day after tomorrow.” He explained. Nicky nodded. 

The locker room was empty when they reached it. Marcus and Nicky showered, the hot water making the sedative seem to work faster. 

He sat down to tie his shoes but he couldn't make his fingers move. Time dripped over him like syrup, thick and slow. Alex dropped a towel over Nicky’s head and rubbed his hair dry before kneeling down to tie his shoes. 

“I’m sorry.” Nicky said. “You should’ve won.” 

Alex patted his knee. “Too many distractions. Hard for everything to click.” He shrugged. “Get you back soon. Better than a medal.” 

Nicky had a feeling he was being pandered to, that things were being oversimplified for his sake, but he couldn’t make the right connections. Everything Alex said seemed right, but something was off. “Are you ok?” He asked. His tongue was too thick in his mouth. How did he talk normally?

“Sad, but ok.” Alex said. “You need to eat. C’mon.” 

Nicky was barely awake when they got to the dining hall. He felt like someone had opened a tap in the side of his head and drained away all his emotions. The sedative made him feel sick, made his face too warm. He felt hollow, his thoughts echoing inside him. He missed Sasha. 

“Eat.” Alex coaxed. “Then bed, I promise.”

“Pills make me feel weird.” Nicky said. He could hear the words slurring even as he tried to speak clearly. “Sick.” He added. 

Alex rubbed his hand up his back, firm enough to penetrate the haze around him. “I know. Can’t take good pills yet though, ok?” 

“I hate this.” Nicky didn’t know if he meant the food, the pills, being numbed, or just the Olympics in general. 

“I know. Me too.” Alex said. “Now eat.” 

When they got back to the dorm, Nicky pressed his face to Alex’s shoulder, shivering. “God, I’m so tired.” He murmured. 

“Bed.” Alex said, helping Nicky get his shoes off. Nicky was asleep nearly as quickly as he hit the pillow, feeling Alex drape himself over his back before passing out. 

In the morning, Nicky bolted awake and tumbled out of bed to the floor. “Shit, are you ok?” He heard Marcus ask, somewhat distantly. All he could really hear was the sound of his heart racing in his ears. 

“Sasha-“

Alex peered over the edge of the bed, sleep-rumpled but fine. Alive, Nicky thought. Alive even if he couldn’t feel him. “I’m ok.” He said. “Nightmares?” 

The adrenaline crash hit him abruptly and he nodded, feeling sick. “Yeah.” 

Alex smiled sadly at him. “Today, we do quarter of pill.” He decided. 

One quarter of a pill worked, though Nicky still felt the unsettled, stomach-clenching feeling that he’d been violently uprooted. It helped, being close to Alex, knowing he was ok. Alex was normally handsy, but he wasn’t normally gentle about it. Alex liked to slap his ass when he walked by or bite his ear in the locker room; Alex liked to make Nicky squirm, to try to rile him up.

Nicky didn’t know quite what to make of Alex’s tender, protective touches, other than that he appreciated them. Alex guiding him to their seats with a hand low on his back, or kissing Nicky’s knuckles as he held his hand, it made him feel warm. It made him feel safe, like everything wasn’t falling apart. 

It had been 10 days and it felt like years. Nicky tried to reach for Alex, a little desperate, but he couldn’t. It just made him dizzy. 

They were eating lunch when Evgeni and Sidney sat down across from them. Nicky stayed quiet, staring at his plate as the other three talked. He didn’t try to keep up with the conversation. His head hurt, the medicine was wearing off, and if he thought too hard about any one thing in particular, he was liable to start hyperventilating. 

“You ok, Nick?” Sid asked. Nicky looked up, his mouth even drier than usual. 

“Allergies bad.” Alex lied for him. “Didn’t think benadryl made him so tired.” He laughed. 

Nicky cracked a smile, hoping the others couldn’t tell how forced it was. “Sorry.”

Sidney looked concerned. “I have Claritin and stuff in my room if you need anything.”

“No, I’ll be fine. But thank you.” Nicky added, hoping he didn’t sound as strange out loud as he did in his own head. 

After lunch, Marcus joined them to watch curling, which they all readily admitted they did not understand. It was the perfect thing to watch after his second dose of medicine, Nicky thought, because it was quiet and slow. 

By the end of the day, the bond still hadn’t returned. Nicky fell asleep with his hands clenched to Alex’s shirt, pressing his face into his chest. 

Sweden won their game the next day, but Nicky felt like he’d been skating through peanut butter. He was grateful when he could take his medicine and even more grateful when Alex met him afterwards, grinning. 

“Pizza.” He decided. “C’mon.” Alex hustled Nicky into a cab, which dropped them off outside of the Olympic village, at a rundown pizza joint that looked like it could’ve been a front for the Russian mob. 

“Don’t be dramatic. Zhenya says pizza here is very good.” Alex said, when he voiced his concerns. 

Alex ordered for them, pushing a beer across the table to Nicky. He raised his eyebrows, “I don’t know it that’s a great idea.”

“Do normal things, maybe bond come back faster.” Alex shrugged. “Or, maybe you fall asleep and I carry you home.” He teased, smiling wickedly.

Nicky laughed, smiling at Alex. “Ok, sure.” He took a sip. It was good. Nicky wasn’t a beer aficionado, but he knew what he liked- and apparently so did Alex. “S’good.”

“Of course. Is Russian.” Alex teased. 

“Of course.” Nicky echoed, smiling. “Are you ok? Really ok, I mean?” He asked. 

Alex shrugged his shoulders, fidgeting with his glass. “Wanted to win, of course. Sad, but...hard to focus, here, you know? They want us to go to so many events, keep us so busy.” He took a long sip of beer. “Plus, I’m glad, a little bit.” He added, his voice quiet enough not to be overheard. 

“What?” Nicky asked, confused. Did he mishear him?

“They go after people like us, make everyone’s lives harder to be here...I don’t know. Maybe if it didn’t make us play better, they won’t do it again.” Alex grinned, a little rebellious. Nicky felt a surge of bright red love towards him. Alex was so brave and confident and- “Hey! Beer works!” Alex laughed. 

Focusing, Nicky could just barely feel the first tendrils of connection. He let out a deep breath, smiling at him. “Guess so.” He said. 

“Told you we could do it.” Alex said, clinking their glasses together. 

———

Nothing would ever feel as sweet as the very first blossom of their bond after being separated. Alex clung to it, his mind a steady stream of warmth and love. Nicky’s side was equally affectionate, a little desperate with it. 

By the time of the gold medal game, the bond was mostly restored. Nicky played like everyone around him had been called up from the minor leagues, skating circles around them. Alex unabashedly cheered for him when he scored, throwing his arms in the air. 

Beside him, Evgeni tugged him back down to his seat. “You’re embarrassing me.” He grumbled. 

“My soulmate is embarrassing yours.” He retorted, laughing. Nicky was finally his again, the place in his mind that had been reserved for him was finally alive again; Evgeni could get over it. 

Alex unzipped his jacket a bit to reveal the t-shirt he’d swiped from Nicky’s room that morning. Evgeni rolled his eyes. “No, you’re definitely the worst” He laughed. “Be careful, or they won’t invite you back.”

“Then I’ll marry Nicky and become Swedish.” Alex said, eyes on the ice as play resumed. 

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Evgeni said, leaning forward to watch more closely. “Besides, you’re too ugly to be Swedish. Have to get tooth fixed, at least.” Alex laughed harder, bumping their shoulders together. 

The game was tied, with time winding down. Alex quietly marveled at Nicky’s singular focus, his attention to detail. Alex held his breath, covering his mouth as Canada almost scored, the puck dangling off Crosby’s stick. 

Alex could feel Nicky’s excitement as they set up for a face-off. Only seconds left in the game, team Sweden scored.

Alex shouted, leaping up from his seat. The game ended and Alex watched him leap over the boards and into the arms of his teammates, a blue and yellow mass of jubilation. He wasn’t ready for the way it hit him, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. He felt excited, happy, relieved- and a little jealous. 

He carefully pushed that last emotion down. It wouldn’t be fair to Nicky, after everything he’d overcome, to feel that. Alex watched him, imagining him screaming himself hoarse. 

It was such a far cry from only a few days ago, when Nicky had broken down after his game and Marcus had called him in a panic. 

Alex would happily give up every chance at a gold medal if he never had to see Nicky that distraught again. The memory of Nicky’s gut-wrenching sobs was too fresh and it made him sick to think about. He drank up the energy rolling through the bond like water from sweet spring. 

Eventually, he worked his way down to the locker room, waiting outside. Someone had started passing around champagne and Nicky had had a couple glasses by the time he found Alex. 

“So proud of you.” Alex said in his ear as he hugged him. Nicky was smiling wide, dimpling his rosy cheeks, and Alex kissed him in the middle of the hall. He was beautiful and happy and he was Alex’s, most importantly. 

“We’re going out. Please come?” Nicky asked. 

Alex had planned to say no. When he’d won at Worlds, Nicky hadn’t joined them. But, Nicky had been through a rollercoaster of a week and Alex liked the idea of never being apart from him again. And he knew soon Nicky would go back to being reserved and careful. 

“Ok, ok. Because you say please.” He teased. Nicky kissed him again, a little hungrily and not strictly appropriate for the public eye, but Alex didn’t care. “Where you going? I met you there.” 

“I don’t know. I’ll text you directions.” Nicky said. 

“Good. Go celebrate! Take lots of pictures.” Alex pushed him back towards the locker room. 

Alex made sure to give them plenty of time before joining the flood of family and friends at a nearby bar. It didn’t sting as much as he’d thought it would to be engulfed in the celebration. He was so happy for Nicky, and he’d meant it; if Russia wanted to treat him like shit, a little bit of him was glad they hadn’t won. 

If Russia and Sweden had played, if Russia had won...he would’ve always wondered if something had been stolen from Nicky. He would always wonder if he could’ve beaten Nicky at his best. Not every player could have that kind of impact on a team, but Nicky made everyone around him play better. 

‘Why are you thinking so much?’ Nicky asked. ‘Bergy keeps handing me shots!’

‘Make sure you say thank you.’ Alex teased. He picked his way through the crowd until he saw Nicky. 

Nicky seemed to feel his eyes on him, turning and waving him over. Alex slipped an arm around him, kissing his cheek. 

“Nice shirt.” Patrik Berglund said, giving Alex an approving once-over. “Here!” He passed them two more shots. 

Alex should probably try to stay mostly sober, because they couldn’t both be hungover and cranky on the plane, but Alex could be mostly sober after a few shots. Alex could sober up later. 

Everything was funny because Nicky was so, so drunk. He was loud and he laughed too much. He joined a group of the Swedes, led by one of the Sedin twins (Daniel? Henrik?) in singing what sounded like a Swedish drinking song. He smiled constantly and he and Marcus spent 10 minutes trying to get Alex to eat something that looked like a black Swedish fish candy, but tasted like salted death. 

Alex wished he could bottle up the happiness coursing through the bond. 

It was almost 3 in the morning when the crowd began to thin, because the bar was shutting down. Nicky was starting to sag against Alex’s side, deeply content, but still so intoxicated. 

Alex steered his soulmate and Marcus back to the dorms. 

‘Stay?’ Nicky asked, rubbing his eyes in the elevator. 

Alex glanced at Marcus. “You ok if I stay?” He asked. It had been a given when Nicky was suffering, but maybe Marcus wanted to be hungover in peace. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Marcus asked. He glanced at Nicky, who’s eyes were closed a little bit longer with each blink, and smiled. “Somebody needs to be functional tomorrow. It’s not gonna be him.” The authority of Marcus’s words were undermined by a series of hiccups. 

Nicky giggled, slumping sideways until Alex caught him and righted him again. “You’re drunk.” He said, clearly delighted and too drunk to see the irony of his statement. 

Alex steered them both down the hall. Nicky tried 3 times to unlock the door before Marcus pushed him aside and struggled with it. Finally, he succeeded, collapsing immediately into his bed. 

“Gatorade, both of you.” Alex decided, passing out bottles. He drank one himself, though he’d stopped taking shots hours ago and had stuck to nursing a few beers. 

Afterwards, Nicky changed into sweatpants and tossed Alex a pair as well. He curled up against Alex’s chest, closing his eyes. 

‘I love you’

‘I love you too’ Alex assured him. ‘Go to sleep.’

‘Not tired’, Nicky protested, even as sleep settled over the bond like a sunset. 

‘Ok. Go party more, then.’ 

Nicky pressed his face into Alex’s chest, shaking his head. ‘Noooooo…’ 

When Alex woke up, Marcus was sitting on the edge of his bed, a little paler than usual, and Nicky was sprawled across Alex’s chest. Part of Alex’s shirt was wet with drool and he’d never loved anyone more. 

“There’s a few hours until we need to be at the airport.” Marcus said hoarsely. “You’re flying out with us, right?”

Alex was never getting separated from Nicky again. “Yeah. My stuff is packed.” 

“He’s alive, right?” Marcus teased. 

Alex made a show of checking Nicky’s pulse, holding his hand when his fingers twitched. “Still alive.” 

“I’m glad you’re waking him up and not me.” Marcus laughed. 

“M’awake.” Nicky groaned, pulling his hand away from Alex as he rolled over, pulling a pillow over his face. “Oh my god…” 

Alex patted his knee. “Let’s go shower, then eat greasy breakfast.” 

Nicky lifted the pillow to peer out at him, glaring against the morning sun as it lit the room. “How can I be so hungover and still drunk?” He asked. 

“I think that’s from the flaming shots.” Marcus supplied. 

It was early enough (before noon) that many of the other Swedish players were not at breakfast. Alex ate cheerfully as Nicky pushed his food around his plate. ‘If you don’t eat, I’ll start singing.’ Alex said. 

Nicky’s eyes narrowed. ‘You wouldn’t.’

Alex raised his eyebrows and Nicky groaned and took a bite of his eggs. He swallowed them and covered his face with his hands. 

“Don’t throw up at breakfast.” Alex teased. “It’s rude.”

“Shut up.” Nicky grumbled. “How much did I drink?”

“The bar ran out of vodka.” Marcus said. “So, a lot. We all drank a lot.” 

“Drank enough you sang.” Alex offered. “I have video.”

“No, no you don’t.” Nicky said, lowering his hands to see if he was joking. Alex pulled out his phone, holding it up to display the video. 

“You’re actually a pretty good singer.” Marcus said, taking a bite of dry toast. 

“Ugh, I hate both of you.” Nicky rested his head on the table, covering it with his arms. 

Alex took pity on him, stopping the video. “Eat your toast.” He said, nudging him. 

That afternoon, they boarded the plane together and Nicky immediately pulled a sleeping mask over his eyes. ‘Ready to go home?’ Alex asked. 

‘Yeah. You?’

‘Always home with you.’ Alex felt Nicky’s bond smile with warmth against his thoughts. He squeezed his hand, thinking loving thoughts to him. 

‘If you start singing, I’ll throw up on you.’ Nicky threatened mildly. ‘I can’t even think about beer right now.’ 

Alex laughed, pressing a kiss to Nicky’s head and letting him lean against him. “I love you.” Nicky said softly, turning his head to discreetly kiss Alex’s shoulder. 

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> In reality, Nicky wasn’t allowed to play in the gold medal game against Canada, and Sweden lost. I couldn’t bring myself to make that happen. I tried. You’re not reading this for the historical accuracy anyway :)


End file.
